I have made an enemy, she thought as she entered her room. She wen t straight to the washbasin and splashed her face fierce- ly with douches of cold water. D INNER was indeed a boisterous affair. The party of twelve was mostly children, ranging from teen-agers to a baby in a high chair. The mother addressed each child by name, over and over, some- times admonishing, sometimes approving, so that Nelly soon knew that the baby was called Troy, short for Troilus, and would have to eat those mashed potatoes before he got his mashed banana. The mother was a strong, bossy woman, and without these hordes of children to address she would have been lost; she would have had no part to play. "Eat that stew, Kath- leen," she would call, back- ing it up wIth a glare. It was mutton stew, with po- tatoes and onions floating in the thick- ened parsley sauce. Big helpings were on the plates, and the extra vegetables were piled in white enamelled dishes, like soap dishes. The champagne on Nelly's table seemed absurd. Each time she poured, she looked away, so as not to be seen, and gave her gaze the bene- fit of the road in the rain. Most of the other guests drank soft drinks or milk, but one quiet couple had a bottle of wine. The man who had invited her to the public house ate alone and never once looked in her direction. In fact, when he entered the room he made a show of saluting one or two other people and deliberately ignored her. He drank tumbler after tumbler of milk with his stew. The waitresses, in some show of bravura, had put flowers in their hair, bits of fuchsia, and it was clear by the way they giggled that they thought this to be very scandalous. All the guests resented the interlopers who made such a fuss and such demands- asking for more napkins and for or- angeade, some begging to be let down . from the table, others slapping their food into plump pancakes, others sim- ply whinging. A German au pair, who sat among the children, occasionally poured from a water jug but otherwise did not pay much attention to their needs. The waitresses dashed about with second helpings and then brought big slabs of rhubarb pie, each decorated with a whorl of cream so whipped that it seemed like an imitation chef's hat. The owner came into the room and went from table to table-except, of course, to the rowdy table-apologiz- ing to his guests for the invasion, as- suring them that it would not happen again. "End of story. . . end of story," he kept saying, giving the intruders a stern look. The irate mother, sensing re- buff, ordered a pot of tea and a pot of cof- fee while telling some of her children to go out and play in the grounds. Mean- while the whipped cream was leaking into the rectangles of rhubarb pie. All the guests were given a compli- mentary glass of port wine, and by the time Nelly had finished hers she was 41 ..... . the only one left. The room was almost in darkness and it was dark outside. She kept waiting for the candle stump to sputter out, as if that were to be the signal to go upstairs. Already she was thinking that she had only five more dinners to endure and that she would be going home Saturday. Home now seemed like a nest, with its lamps and its warmth. The simpleton gave her a start as he appeared over her, a big clumsy figure in a sheepskin jacket. "Will you be here tomorrow?" he asked. He had a muffled voice, and there was a stoppage in his speech. It was as if he had too much saliva. "I'm afraid I will," she said, and hoped she didn't sound too peeved. "I'm glad you'll be here. You're a nice lady," he said as he shuffled out, and, rising, she picked her way be- tween the tables, certain that she was about to break down. I N the morning things seemed quite different-sparkling. The sea was bright, like a mirror with the sun danc-